frequencies of your voice when you speak my name
by concreteskies
Summary: All the different names Castle uses to call Beckett. Vaguely inspired by a question on castlefanficprompts.


**frequencies of your voice when you speak my name**

* * *

_I can measure the exact frequency  
of your voice when you speak my name,  
but I cannot explain how it resonates  
with such perfect clarity down my spine._

-mccoyquialisms

* * *

He calls her love in the mornings, when the sun is filtered through the curtains in scattered rays of sunlight. It's always in the silence, always spoken with a kind of precious reverence.

She feels his arm wrapped around her bare waist just under the covers and the way he scoots a little closer. They're both only half aware, still tangled in between the hold of dreams and the grasp of manifesting awareness. The room is still a little drowsy, the sun not quite strong enough to illuminate the walls. It's some kind of an almost mystic atmosphere, a time where nothing is sure and everything matters.

She feels the way his head moves closer to hers, his eyes still closed, automatically drawn to her. There always seems to be some kind of gravitational anomaly in the mornings that draws them together no matter what they do.

His mouth falls into the crook of her neck in a slurry and kind of sloppy kiss and she feels a lazy smile spread on her lips.

Everything is kind of slow, kind of heavy and at the same time terribly easy and she leans into his touch and turns around to meet his lips with hers.

"Good morning, love" he whispers against her soft, rosy lips and she smiles into the breath of words before she deepens the kiss.

xx

He calls her Honey when she is sick.

At first it started out as a joke. He brought her tea when she was down with the flu somewhere in the first months of being together.

"Tea with honey, for my honey" he had cracked up only himself with that and got nothing but a cranky glare back from her, but the joke had persisted.

He's always a little too much when she is sick. He always tucks her in two or three blankets, makes her soup and tea, and doesn't allow her to even as much as leave the bed. She pretends to be annoyed and rolls her eyes when he forces yet another spoonful of soup down her aching throat. But when he slips into bed next to her and wraps himself around her, she cuddles into him, always closer, seeking out his warmth. The ultimate hot water bottle.

"You're gonna get sick" she tells him every time.

"I'm a father, I'm immune."

It's not true. He often gets sick after or while she is sick, but he doesn't care. Kissing her is always worth it.

He always untangles her hair when she is on the verge of sleeping. His fingers are careful and soft, and she hears the whispered words of "Sleep well, honey" when her awareness is slipping and her eyes are dropping and there is nothing else around except his warmth and his words.

xx

He calls her Mrs. Castle in the evenings.

He started doing this even before they were actually married. And even though at first she had rolled her eyes and told him, "Not Mrs. Castle yet" she really hadn't objected to the endearment.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Castle" he greats her when she enters the loft. She turns her key more quietly these days, takes her shoes off in front of the door so they don't ring through the apartment when she enters.

She misses having him at work with her, but the welcome home kisses are always worth it.

Grace is asleep on his lap and she knows her little girl has tried to stay up late again to see mommy coming home. She really can't wait for her shifts to be changed in two weeks, so she gets to spend more time with her 4 year old baby girl and her ridiculous, mentally 4 year old, husband.

She grins as she moves in closer on tiptoes, trying to be silent. But Grace's eyes flutter open anyway and she reaches out a tiny palm into the general direction of her mother.

"Hi mommy"

"Hi baby" she whispers and leans down to press a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead.

"And hello Mister Castle" she grins and presses her lips onto his in the softest of kisses.

She then wraps her arms around the tiny frame of her daughter and scoots her into her arms before she and her partner make their way up to their daughter's little, pink bedroom.

She really likes being Mrs. Castle.

xx

He calls her darling to mess with her. He knows she hates it and he is careful not to ever use it in public ever again (The one time he did, she dragged him into the ladies restroom, pinched his chest and told him off. He didn't listen and she restrained him from Sex for a week.)

But when they are home alone or at the precinct where no one will overhear, he calls her darling sometimes. Because he loves the way she spins around and glares at him, and the way her cheeks always get that rosy tone as she glances around to check whether someone heard.

He doesn't know why she hates it and neither does she, but they sure do have their fun messing with each other.

"So, darling what are your thoughts?" he asks after watching her staring at the murder board for about ten minutes. Why does she have to look so goddamn sexy while staring down a white board?

"I don't know, you tell me kitten" She only turns around then, smirking and eyebrows raised.

His eyes widen comically and she seems even more pleased with herself.

Level up, buddy.

"Well you know, it could have been an alien abduction" he says in earnest "don't you think, cupcake"

She isn't sure what part of the sentence she is glaring at him for. Probably all.

"I think that seems highly improbable, honey-bun"

"Oh no, but don't you see?" he points in the general direction of the white board "he had needle marks on his neck, tell me one other explanation that would make more sense, sugar"

"Oh I could tell you about a million more probable theories. But I am going to go with the evidence instead of blatant guessing, lover boy"

"You are no fun, sweetheart"

Ryan and Espo arrive with some information concerning their case and they stop their battle.

It wasn't an alien abduction.

(Everybody was surprised)

xx

He calls her Detective Beckett in bed.

It started when she first brought up her handcuffs and tied him to the bed.

"Oh Detective Beckett" he had mumbled "I knew there was that wild, kinky side to you"

"Oh you have no idea"

And oh had she been right.

He still calls her Detective Beckett quite frequently, although it's been a long time since she had been that. But he always insists that Captain Beckett doesn't sound quite as sexy as Detective.

She has to agree. And she loves it when he calls her that- especially when it's all low, desperate moans, escaping in the midst of bucking hips and arching backs.

xx

He calls her Kate.

It really should not affect her this much every time he says her name.

But she has never been just Kate before. She has been Detective Beckett to her colleagues and supervisors. She has been Katie to her father and mother. She has been a nameless fling for oh so many college boys and KBex and Bex to her friends. She's never truly been Kate, until him.

He called her Beckett for such a long time and it had been okay, it was appropriate. Her name only ever surfaced when something wasn't okay, when it was important that she listened, that she understood.

The first time her name falls from his lips in a casual conversation, his eyes immediately seek out hers.

"Is this okay?"

"Is what okay?"

"Me calling you that"

She smiles at his question. It's that wide, raw smile that always seems to find its way onto her lips when he is around. That smile that could set the world on fire.

"It's more than okay" and then her lips find his across the distance and her smile leaks into him and he forgets how to breathe.

He calls her Kate now every day and it still makes her heart flutter and has soon become her favorite sound.

"Kate, I love you" he says on the phone. Her favorite constellation of words. And she revels in the sound of it, in the cadence of his voice when he says her name.

He always pronounces it as if it were something precious.

"Kate."

Something holy, sacred and worth protecting.

Her name. A revelation on a stuttered breath, a sigh from chapped lips, a prayer, salvation and solid ground.

The way in which he says her name, a declaration of love.

* * *

**AN: **As stated in the description this was vaguely inspired by a question on castlefanficprompts. I hope you liked it!

Twitter: AlyssaLucyAnne

Tumblr: dancingontiptoes


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